


Memento

by Sjukdom



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, PWP, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-04 05:12:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5321750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sjukdom/pseuds/Sjukdom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“When you're at another boring meeting, where everyone is too busy showing off rather than actually doing something, or at a long night shift on the empty street with too many shadows, remember”, Oswald said.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memento

_“When you're at another boring meeting, where everyone is too busy showing off rather than actually doing something, or at a long night shift on the empty street with too many shadows, remember”, Oswald said. Whispered. Groaned from the floor, where the carpet was too rough for his hot and wet skin. Whispered, with his breath tickling Jim's face like a tiny gust of summer wind, smelling of mint and red wine. Said absolutely serious, sitting next to him in a bar, his words hidden by the roar of old-fashioned music. The smile on his face was barely visible behind the curtain of cigarette smoke. His words echoed in Jim's mind, multiplying and acquiring strength and meaning._

_“Remember.”_

_“Remember -”_

Remember the light in his eyes, the light of the full moon reflecting in Oswald's pale blue irises and large pupils. His eyes are like tiny moons themselves, opening like blossoms and revealing pitch darkness inside. He looks at Jim, while lying on the floor, his body covered with stripes of moonlight, shining through the curtains, like with the purest white lace. Jim has just come home and quietly settled himself in the bed, fully clothed, waiting for Oswald to be there under the duvet, but the bed is cold and empty. Only when Jim lowers his gaze he notices that gleam, the light of two other moons and the naked body, bathing in pale glow. He doesn't dare to move, afraid that he will ruin the magic, scare the mythic creature in front of him. 

The light covers Oswald's skin like a tattoo, an unfamiliar pattern, letters of an alien language, a map of a faraway land. But then the pictures come to life, the muscles under the skin breath into them and make them move. Oswald stretches out and his gaze finds Jim's, who sits on the bed, frozen in the white light himself.

“You will remember it”, whispers Oswald, raising his upper body and reaching out for Jim's face. Jim blinks, suddenly realizing that it's not a vision in front of him, a product of a restlessly tired mind, not a fine marble statue, coming alive only once in a thousand years, not a masterpiece of an artist, smiling at him from hundreds years ago. Oswald's hands are warm, his breath is scorching hot and on his back and hips he can see red marks, left by the rough carpet's fabric. Jim takes Oswald's palms in his, feeling with maddening intensity that there is a living body at his feet, the body he studied so thoroughly, the body resembling his own so much, yet being so different, the body that can sweat, with tiny pores visible, with a shadow of recently shaven hair and little scars here and there – white bridges across the blue rivers of veins. 

The contrast with his first ethereal impression is so strong that Jim can hardly breath. His fingers wander across Oswald's face, finding familiar features, ruffle through the hair, touch the soft lips, parting before them. Jim feels himself blinded, despite remembering that he has seen it all in broad daylight, the eyes with soft eyelashes, the peaky nose, the mouth, smiling and pressing into thin line sometimes, when he was not around. Jim breaths the words into Oswald's mouth as if giving him a kiss of life:

“I will.”

Oswald kisses him on the mouth, deeply and possessively, standing on his knees between Jim's thighs. It sends shiver through Jim's whole body, provokes a chain reaction, a lightning ball creeping through his blood vessels and ending in his groin. He does everything quickly as if afraid that the soft flesh under his fingertips will turn back into cold stone. 

Jim doesn't break the kiss as he lowers himself on the floor, on the top of Oswald. Doesn't break the kiss, doesn't stop caressing the inside of Oswald's mouth with his tongue as he hastily unzips himself and pulls out his cock, touching the delicate skin on Oswald's thighs with its wet head. Jim begins to run out of air, but instead of pulling back he seals Oswald's mouth with his lips completely, feeling the movements of his body under him as he grabs the bottle of lube and moistens his cock with it with both hands.

Jim finds the way inside him easily, feeling the familiar resistance of muscles at first, but then they let go, let him in, embrace his cock tightly. He still holds his mouth close to Oswald's, tangling their breath and occasionally licking his lower lip with the tip of his tongue as he thrusts into him desperately, spreading his knees wider and digging his short nails in the skin of his hips, thrusts with each beat of his wildly beating heart, with each sound escaping Oswald's throat. The orgasm feels just like another sparkle in this chain lightning and after that it all suddenly and painfully ends. 

The shirt sticks to Jim's body. Oswald strokes his hair lazily, still refusing to let go of him. Jim's face is buried in his neck and the scent of Oswald's skin and hair is the most luscious fragrance he's ever smelt. He worries that his body is too heavy for Oswald, but can't find the courage to move away. The words about him remembering it seem to be the only truth existing in the world.

It was not Jim's first memory about Oswald and definitely not the last.

_“Remember -”_

_“Remember me.”_


End file.
